The Compatability Test
by Sonata-Euphoria
Summary: Eternal Sonata/Trusty Bell-- Some say Frederic Chopin can be paired up with anyone... So, what would happen if everyone fell in love with our favorite composer? Will Frederic survive the insanity? There can be only one! Frederic/? CHAPTER 2!
1. Disturbance

Well, well! This is Grim-Angel-Camui, I have returned with a flourish! Perhaps! :D But, now's not the time to engage in delightful conversation, I have been driven absurdly crazy with all the fanatic obscurities I've been hearing lately! So, I decided to do something about it. x3

Recently, my dear girlfriend (and my partner-in-crime for this little project) bought and has already played through the whole game of Eternal Sonata, and we both just fell in LOVE with it. So, naturally, like the fans we are, we went and sought out fanfictions… and were disappointed in not only the LACK of fanfictions, but the idea that Mr. Frederic Chopin could be paired up with, apparently, EVERYONE around him.

And, of course, that's when the thought struck me. If pairings with Frederic up the wazoo is what people are talking about, then I will abide to their insanity and put poor Frederic through the dating Hell of EVERYONE. You better appreciate what we're doing!! xD

Note, as well, that only ONE person is going to end up winning Frederic's heart! So… who will it be? x3

Lol, my head's going to explode by the end of it, I just know it.

As Mario might say, "Heeeeeeeeeere we goooooooooo!!"

* * *

**-Allegretto-**

_Its been too long since I've actually laid eyes on something as graceful as what just passed by my vision. No, scratch that, nothing compares to it at all. Even if I have seen it before, it doesn't matter. I can write it off as a dream at best…_

…_speaking of dreams, I'm starting to wonder if I've stepped into my own little fantasy. There's no way someone could be that strong, right? I mean, for one, our blue-eyed princess changed the lives of everyone for the better. Me, definitely. I wouldn't be half as good a person I am now if she weren't there to daintily shove me in the right direction. Haven't thanked anyone that much in my whole life. And even though I cant help but follow her every move, throw myself out in the face of danger all for the sake of her frail, adorable body and melting smile, I'm fairly certain I can safely say that—_

_Oh god, there he goes again. _

_God dammit, where does he get all that fancy footwork from? I could do that, I bet anyone anything. But, even still… Why does he keep stealing my attention away? I'm trying to daydream, dammit! Stop looking at me, why don't you!_

_Oh, great, make my day by sitting down next to me of all people. Doesn't he know how much I hate knowing what he did to us? To _me_? I could care less if those blue, searing cold eyes of the darkest ocean's tide pleaded to me for forgiveness everyday! Even if they _begged_ me with that goody, bright charm of his! I'd relish it, damn it! Wait…_

… _that didn't come out right in my head. Well, it's a good thing I didn't say it. Besides…_

_He betrayed us. He tried to kill us. For Saints' sake, he thought I- er- everyone- was a dream! There's no pride in that! Backstabbing, untrustworthy, cold-hearted bastard…_

_Wait, was he just speaking to me?_

_Aw, crap! I didn't hear a word he was saying! Fricken' eyes always feeling like they have to wander off while I'm trying to focus on his pale, striking features…_

_Waaait… What the hell am I talking about?? _

_Get a grip, Retto, my man. Remember what you tell yourself every day: 'I lov—LOATH!! Him'—dammit! Loathe! Loathe! Loatheloatheloatheloatheloathe!! My brain is a worthless piece of crap, getting the few words I know mixed up in my head! That's it! That's all it is! It's a dy…dyle… Uhhm, dys-let-ex-ic thing, or whatever the hell it is he called it when he was explaining it to Jazz that one time. Yea, that's all it is. _

_Right! So, uh, now to just brush off the last thing he said like I didn't care, then pick up on the subject of the following sentence… Remember, Retto. _

_Just._

_Keep._

_Focused._

-

"Allegretto?" the older man's serene voice punctured through the awkward silence he'd received from the boy next to him, who seemed to be more then lost on his way back to reality, "Did you hear me?"

A struggled gasp came as his response, the silvery-haired teen nearly lurching off the garden railing he'd previously been poised comfortably upon. A color resembling the glow of freshly waxed tomatoes radiated brightly from the boy's cheeks, and as he stumbled to catch his balance, he silently cursed himself a hundred times over. Anxiously, he straightened himself up, staring back fish-eyed at the angelic man dressed in that indiscernible mixture of violet and navy. His mind tried to wrap around the advice he'd given himself not two minutes prior, and happened to phrase it just like he'd planned,

"Ah-! Ahm… Ehe, right, eh… Uhm… What?"

_Dammit!!_

The taller man crossed his arms slowly over his narrow torso, hat-topped head shaking in a genial form of exasperation, a small sigh escaping his pale lips. Standing up from his spot against the railing, he approached the staggering boy, eyes locked on his jittering form. Stopping barely a foot away from him, he leaned forward… and frowned.

"Allegretto," the boy in question stiffened at the seriousness of the man's tone and he swallowed hard, "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for causing so much trouble these past few weeks. I'm sure you must have been overjoyed when you knew it wasn't just Polka who'd returned," the last sentence was frayed with lighthearted sarcasm, a shot at the speaker himself instead of spite at the teen—a tone Allegretto fired back at him when he was upset about this exact subject. However, this time, the usually rowdy teen minutely winced at the comment. The slight movement, to his continuing misfortune, had been clearly noted with the question following:

"Allegretto? …Is something wrong?"

"N-nothing!!" the silver-haired boy hissed suddenly, instantly turning his back on the vision in front of him. Where the act, he hoped, carved the impression he'd grown fed up with the composer, the fact of the matter underneath it all was as simple as he couldn't keep staring at him. "Saints!! Why do you always gotta be so fricken' pushy?!"

Sitting back against the stone flats of the flowerbed, Frederic Chopin frowned, brows furrowing in another bout of deep confusion the boy had sent him into. Never once had Allegretto been the type to sidestep a controversial topic for him such as this, but even more to the point… he always took any available shot Frederic opened to him. Turning his curious eyes up to the clear, warming skies of Forte, he began to sigh slowly, preparing for the usual barrage of insults which were sure to follow him opening his mouth a second time.

…

……

His frown deepened. Pushing a stray indigo curl out of his line of vision, the musician stood, regarding the teen ahead of him warily.

"Honestly, Allegretto, will you at least gift me with a response? You are one of the people whom I must apologize to the most for what I did," Frederic started slowly, his voice calm, but fiercely direct.

-

-

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shiiiiit!! _

He could feel his cheeks rapidly warming under the pressure of the older man's gaze. Pulling his head down to stare determinedly at the cobblestones under their feet, he bit his lip. A particularly long string of confusing thoughts and feelings had built up surrounding the turncoat composer shortly after his return to normalcy in their world. A string that, up until this point, he figured, would eventually completely unwind from its spool of mysterious origin. But, to his great dismay, he began to realize quickly as time went on, this spool was a damn large one, and so the stacking of one feeling on top of another steadily grew. Each confrontation resulted in a new and uncharted outburst of emotion, becoming exponentially more erratic as time mercilessly continued…and the spool continued to unravel.

_I know how you can make it up to me… But, I cant…Damn… Aw, hell, screw it!!_

He stepped forward, ignoring the menagerie of moths in his stomach, and used the little momentum he'd gained to throw himself forward, a hand grasping the pianist's shoulder, the other curled behind his neck to effectively pull him into a very sudden, and more importantly shocking, kiss…

…and, like a cat sleeping on a timed sprinkler, Frederic catapulted himself back, many feet away from the amorous teenager, eyes wide with the mixture of violation and flustered panic that can only be described as horror, top hat falling to the ground an equal distance from both of them. Face red from anything but approval, he pressed his lips tightly together between his teeth, just in case another preemptive strike were to be made. So, likewise, in a rather muffled voice, the man attempted a response.

"All'retto, whut're you 'oing??" Another pitfall of shock appeared below him unexpectedly when the boy stiffened, as if trying hard not to self-destruct.

"Oh, get a clue, idiot!!" Allegretto finally shouted, enough so passersby shot the two a wondrous stare. His fists tightened at his sides, "I-uh… I-I…" he thrust his eyes shut, "I LOVE YOU, DAMMIT!!"

If there had ever been a time where sanity could relapse, Frederic felt he knew exactly what every other man thrown into the funny house must've experienced. Staggering to straighten himself against the very weight of Allegretto's glower, he swallowed hard, digging through every crevasse of his mind to figure out just exactly…

"Pardon my language, but, how the Hell did that happen?!" the crack in his voice didn't aid to the steadily deteriorating situation, so, like a good man, he cleared his throat and stood with the help of the now, rather hopeless looking flowerbed. He immediately backtracked, "Allegretto… you realize this, er, _your_ feelings for me are completely… well… _outlandish_, don't you? I'm old enough to be your father, you know this, so I don't…" instantly, he could feel the air around them tighten just a little more. A sudden loss of blood in his face noted his fright and, unblinking, he continued, choosing his words as carefully and articulately as any artist of the 1800's would do,

"No."

And, as to be expected, the famous composer (rather gleefully) spent the following hour running for his life through the streets and alleys of Forte City at the mercy of blade point.

**_Later…_**

Frederic flopped down into the open oak chair at the dinner table back at the house-of-goats known as Viola's farm. Reflections of the day seemed to appear in every open space of air around him, and the atmosphere at best felt suffocating. So much, in fact, the composer felt it necessary to let the weight of the air drag his head downwards into his waiting palms. The members of the household seemed to ghost past him, however, he could feel their searing, questioning glances as they left.

He looked up just as the familiar coo of Viola's partner skittering up onto the table, navy eyes clouded from far too much deliberation on the matter.

"Hey," the spunky young woman barked, snapping the man further out of his concentration (as if thinking harder might solve the issue of why Allegretto obviously lost his mind). She leaned an open hand onto the cool oak of the dining table, "What's featherhead's problem? He's been following you around all day."

A groan came in response as Frederic slumped back in his chair, "Not following, Viola… _Stalking_," a quick recollection of proper manners brought the man back up into a straight-backed position, his half-lidded eyes locked on the bookshelf across the room in a decisive glower, "Allegretto's been _stalking_ me."

The statement dropped another sheet of thickness to the chilling fog of Frederic's obvious despondent anger. Beads and shells clinked together as the farmer-girl shifted her feet uncomfortably, "Well, uh…" where her expression remained bland, her mind seemed to shout something close to 'KILL 'EM! KILL 'EM AND FEED THE EVIDENCE TO THE GOATS!!' However, she just shot him a hopeful smile, "Well, I'll keep him off your back for now." Viola finally stated simply, cutting her mental rant short, "You gonna be in for dinner?"

Frederic began to give her a practiced smile of gratefulness, however, seeing another body enter the room made him stop short. Viola stared down at him questionably before turning around to locate just what had caught Frederic's attention.

"Oh, hello, Jazz," she beamed, taking Arco up in her arms as she nervously wandered from the table to her lowly simmering stove. The creature squirmed from her grasp and took to roosting behind her neck, chirping at the tall militia man.

Jazz smiled his usual, calming charm of a smile. However, his eyes glimmered with the faint hint of concern, "I couldn't help but overhear."

Having now two pairs of eyes picking at the locks of his internal box personal information from the day, Frederic's shoulders raised, his back stiffening.

"It's fine," the composer cut off the question he knew was coming and stood, his hands resting delicately upon the face of the table, "I'm going to bed."

In a swift cloud of violet and navy, Frederic disappeared into the passages of Viola's home, leaving the two army veterans to simply stare after him.

Jazz frowned. Viola sighed.

"Poor guy, getting hit on by a kid worthy of being a two-year-old in comparison to his age."

"…" Jazz's frown remained despite Viola's sarcastic remark. Silence entered the room rapidly, resting its head for a while before the man's low, smooth voice flipped it off of its airy mattress and viciously kicked it out the door,

"...Where's Allegretto?"

* * *

There! First chapter is done! Annnnd it looks like Allegretto lost. ; Care to take a guess at who our next contestant will be? X3 Please R&R or there will be no more!! xD


	2. Static

Alrighty then! Now it's **my** turn! AbhorsenSabriel87 is back, baby!!! XO

Now then, in the previous chapter my very lovable spouse told you **why** we are doing what we are to poor Frederic Chopin. She also told you **how** we're going about it. What she _didn't_ tell you was who's coming for him, and who's actually gonna get him! :D

So, sit back, relax, and ENJOY THE SHOOOOOOOOW!!!

**-Polka-**

_I honestly don't know what came over him all of a sudden. I've been trying for the past three weeks to figure out a plausible reason as to Allegretto's actions, but so far, nothing's added up. Even before I condemned myself (or, as the boy likes to say, "went turncoat"), he didn't like me all that much. He doesn't trust me, he doesn't even __**like**__ me. How am I supposed to believe that this isn't just teenage hormones finally taking effect and he's lashing them out at the first person he sees everyday?_

…_Well, I suppose there's not much to be done about it. Now he won't even talk to me (which, I suppose can be considered a __**good**__ thing, taking our prior "conversations" into account). Is it even possible to fix my relationship with him now? Or will anything I do just spiral things more and more out of control? I may just have to wait it out and see if he just forgets about the incident…_

_Which, knowing him, isn't a chance in Hell._

_On a different note, Jazz, Viola, and Falsetto still aren't able to leave the Chorus Plains, despite being late in getting back to Andante. Falsetto's reasoning is that the Adagio Swamp would be flooded with water from the Woodblock Grove, making it too hazardous to enter. I hope that everything turns out all right – I heard that the swamp isn't exactly the best place to be anyway… imagining all those toxins from that horrible forest in that stagnant water makes me worry if they'll actually be able to get back at all now._

A slender hand dipped the quill into the obsidian inkwell, drawing more of the shining pitch substance onto the fine point. Gracefully, so not to splatter the ink, the hand shifted back to the paper and began scribbling the words that none but he could read. Sapphire eyes rimmed in weary grey watched the gentle, loopy scratches turn into letters, then words, and finally paragraphs on the yellowing pages. He leaned on his other hand, his white-sleeved elbow resting on the wooden table as his gently folded fist provided support for his drooping head.

It was late. He really should be getting to bed. But, he knew if he didn't write this all down, it would haunt him in his sleep. So, he wrote everything that had been plaguing his thoughts down in this little, unused journal found deep in a trunk stuffed under a mountain of blankets. It was time-consuming, but relaxing at the same time. He even began rewriting his compositions on the pages (though grew frustrated with having to wait endlessly before certain segments were dry to write more). After discovering drying sand, however, this was no longer an issue, really…

Jolting, the man slapped himself smartly on the cheek, shaking his head to clear away the drowsiness. Twilight blue fell across his shadowed eyes, and he swiftly brushed the locks away. He needed to cut it soon – it was getting _far_ too long for his liking.

"Frederic?" Blinking away the bleariness, the composer turned about in his chair, resting his gaze on the shy young woman who had just walked into the room. She had her hands held up to her chin and chest, a position he knew well to mean that something was worrying her.

"Polka… What are you doing awake this late at night?" The girl shifted her gaze away, looking down at the floor bashfully as a soft rosen hue formed in her cheeks. Her normal dress was hanging outside on the line, due to the sudden storm that had soaked them all earlier today, so she wore a simple white cotton shirt (enormous on her tiny frame, considering that it was Jazz who so kindly gave it to her). Her long, skinny legs were tilted in a way as to say that she was hiding something, and she held her arms to herself as if she was trying to shield herself.

Actually… she looked rather nervous in general…

"I… I'm worried about you, Frederic," she said softly. "You stay up later than that rest of us, and you're up earlier than even Viola. You don't eat much, and even though you haven't gotten sick recently… well…"

"I don't do well in stormy weather," he finished, sighing. "Yes, Polka, I understand. I'm sorry to be worrying you. I'll be asleep soon, I promise you." He gave her a reassuring smile, but it dropped when she turned a deeper shade and ducked her head further. "Polka? Are you all right?"

The girl looked shyly up at him and stepped further into the room, closing the door to the large bedroom they all slept in when staying at Viola's farm. Tentatively, the sixteen year-old girl stepped forward, appearing more and more nervous the closer into the light she came. "Frederic… I have to tell you something…" she stated quietly.

Memories of three weeks ago when Allegretto quite literally jumped him came flooding back, and the composer paled slightly. _Oh no… not Polka… Dear God, not Polka, too…_

"I… You've always been there for me ever since you came here… You gave up your life back in your world to save mine… You never think I'm silly or clueless or… or anything but a person." The smile on the young blonde's face was slowly relaxing as she recounted the things he'd done for her over the past few years. "You made sure my birthdays were never lonely, you've always treated me with kindness and respect, and… you were my first friend. I just… I want you to know how much you mean to me, Frederic."

"Polka, that really isn't necessary…" Frederic started, worried about where this conversation would head in a few moments if not diverted. "I care about you – and everyone here – because you all are my friends. Like family, actually."

"Exactly!" Now Polka looked almost excited, face flushed in her shy passion for the subject. "That's why I need to tell you this, Frederic!"

"Polka, really, I don't – "

"I love you, Frederic." Silence filled the room, and the girl sighed, smiling serenely. "I love you so much. I know I worry, but…"

"Polka…"

She continued as if he hadn't tried to interrupt. "But I want you to be happy." Smiling brightly, she giggled.

"You're like a father to me. I want to make sure you're happy." The worry on her face prior came back, and she looked shy again. "You… don't mind that I… think of you like that… do you?"

Frederic, stunned into silence previously, realized what the young woman had said. Almost gratefully, he smiled, then chuckled, then laughed in relief. The girl looked nervous, then relaxed and smiled with him when he gave her his best fatherly smile.

"Of course not, Polka. I'd be honored to have you call me your father." The girl brightened further and ran into his arms, hugging him happily.

"Thank you, Frederic! It means so much to me, really!" She kissed him on the cheek, inciting a slight blush to rise in the musician's face, then ran merrily to the door. As she opened it, she smiled back at him with pure, innocent joy.

"Goodnight, Father!"

"Goodnight, Polka. Sweet dreams," Chopin answered, smiling warmly at her. The teen giggled and left the room, leaving the door open like it had been before. The composer stared at the door for a moment, pondering the previous conversation before chuckling and turning back to his journal. He dipped the pen in his inkwell and began scratching away once more. He finished his previous entry, then began another one after letting the drying sand work its magic on his page.

_I really had no idea Polka felt as if I was her father… but I'm happy. I know from her mother that Polka never had a father, so… It's an honor… It feels… well, it feels nice to have someone look up to you like that._

"Doesn't it?"

Frederic jolted violently, knee hitting the underside of the table as he spun around wildly to see the taller dark-haired man leaning over and staring at the journal. Turning his head to look at the startled composer, the man smiled and straightened up.

"Jazz!" Frederic hissed, glancing back to the open door before looking at him again. "What are you doing?"

"Reading. You've been teaching me your language, remember?"

Actually, Frederic had forgotten at the current moment, but that wasn't the point. "Jazz, it's rude to read someone's personal thoughts over their shoulder in their _private_ journal. Please, don't sneak up on me like that again."

With a shrug, the military man smiled his usual cryptic grin at Frederic. "All right. You should be getting to bed, though. It's late."

Frederic sighed. "Fine… just another minute and I'll be done." With a nod, the dark haired giant of a man walked back into the bedroom, likely to lie back against the wall like he always did. Frederic looked back to the journal, scribbled a few more things down, then stood, his knee throbbing slightly with its unfortunate encounter with the table. With a sigh, he leaned over, closed the yellowing pages, and snuffed out the lantern.


End file.
